


My Coming Out Story.

by Talia Zora Cain (TheFoxDog)



Category: Original Work
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-12
Updated: 2017-10-12
Packaged: 2019-01-16 05:04:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,142
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12336036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheFoxDog/pseuds/Talia%20Zora%20Cain
Summary: I feel like I should say something regarding National Coming Out Day. Especially, now, considering current events.So, I'm going to tell you my coming out story. Only my wife knows this story, and not even the whole of it.Buckle up, creampuffs. Its gonna be a ride.





	My Coming Out Story.

**Author's Note:**

> Names have been purposely omitted.

 

I was in a relationship with a guy for nearly 5 and a half years. We had broken up quietly, civilly, and even managed to live together for nearly 3 months after until I could find somewhere to go.

The beginning was good. He was my first boyfriend as it was exciting for that fact alone. I was 19 he was 23. There were problems like any other relationship, but he was kind and caring to me, we had fun together, but there was always something holding me back. I loved him as much as I could until it started becoming forced. I realized that I was forcing myself to love this man and I didn't know why. I was too much of a coward to do anything then to break it off so I continued to try. For two more years.

In those two years I had attended culinary school and met some wonderful people from all over the world. I found an amazing group of friends that I would spend multiple nights at their house drinking and having 2 am conversations. But my boyfriend, having social anxiety, hardly ever joined. People started questioning why, and one even asked if I was gay but was afraid to tell them.  
I froze, got a bit defensive, and tried to play it off.  
If I'm being honest with myself, my subconscious already knew. But that comment threw my while world into question. That flippant comment made mostly in jest speared straight through me. As of that was the key to it all.

_AM_  I gay???

I mean sure, I'm definitely a tomboy, I'm not really attracted to most men and sometimes there are women I find attractive (because all women were beautiful) but that doesn't really mean anything right? Not if I have a boyfriend. So, I tried my best to forget about it.  My mind had other plans. Everything started slowly falling into place when I realized I had a crush on a straight girl. At work. Thankfully, I don't think anyone but me figured it out. But I tried really hard not to, because my family was Catholic, and dear god what are they going to think if they find out?! Who would be on my side? Who would most likely _not_  be on my side? And am I about to break my grandma's heart?

I tried so hard that I fell into depression. I loathed it. I loathed myself. But nobody could tell and I definitely was not going to tell them. I buried myself into graduating school and friends and binge drinking (though I wouldn't have seen it that way back then.) It started showing in my relationship. In my attitude and the way everything about him started to annoy me, and I really did not want to be touched. But again, I was a coward and kept pretending. I wept after almost anytime there was intimacy, which was rare, because I didn't want that anymore. He never knew that I did. I actively began to avoid being in our bedroom with him, of even sharing the same bed. I felt sick with myself for forcing my love of him. Because that was it, wasn't it? I wasn't in love with him, and I don't think I ever fully was. I felt horrible about the way I was treating him but I also felt trapped. Where would I go? The only logical place was my parents but they had no room.

Then, one of those nights I'd been having a stressful dream, the kind where your whole body tenses as it happens, there was yelling between my dad and I, we were arguing over who knows what and he demanded to know why I wasn't doing that thing expected of me and I turned and screamed at myself "BECAUSE I'M GAY"!

  
I woke up shaking so violently that I'm sure I was having a panic attack. I'm sure I sobbed afterward. He never knew because he was downstairs playing a game. The next morning my chest felt lighter. I felt like shit and had a migraine, but I no longer felt heavy. I also knew what I had to do next, but I didn't want to. I didn't want to break this man's heart, but I couldn't live in this lie anymore. It was honestly going to destroy me. 

It took weeks to work up the courage to do so. I had graduated culinary school by then so I had been avoiding thinking about it. I felt like I had to tell someone, or this would eat me alive, so I confided in a dear friend about what was going on. I asked him if it made me a horrible person for letting this lie go on for so long, even after I had admitted it to myself. He didn't think so, knowing now what was bothering me. He assured me that I was taking steps to be happy, and that if I had to lie a little bit to spare some feelings, at least until I was ready, that it was ok. And, it felt liberating to finally say the words "I am gay" to a friend I knew would have my back. 

A few weeks later, there was an argument while he was bout to go into work.  There were lots of fights happening by that time, but this was the last one.  I told my boyfriend what was wrong, why I was so unhappy and that I couldn't do it anymore. It wasn't fair to either of us to keep on like this. That it wasn't his fault and he could tell everyone that I was to blame. When I got back to our place, I had a panic attack. I just ended a 5 year relationship and I had no where to go. A few days later I broke down for real, in front of my mom, and told her what happened. I was so afraid of saying the words out loud that I stood there forcing sounds to leave my mouth while my jaw was clenched shut. And she didn't reject me. She just took it all in, told me she loved me, and that she wouldn't tell my dad until I was ready for him to hear it. And that I could move back in with them after my sister moved out.

He and I talked the next day, and he agreed that I would move into the spare room until my sister moved out of my parents' house. We maintained a room-mate like existence. I got a job and was gone for most of the day anyway and he would leave for work after I got back.

I moved into my parents house 3 months later and fell harder into depression. I spent most days in bed, in the dark, only getting up to go to work. I no longer had a way to go out and I now had to rely on my family for everything again. I felt unworthy of looking for love again because I felt responsible for someone else's heartbreak. But I had to start doing something again. I was getting tired of myself. So, I slowly came out to my siblings and friends, all of whom were very supportive and not at all surprised once they thought about it.

Knowing that I didn't lose them, I thought I should at least try to date. Maybe, ya know, not let that anguish I unleashed be for naught. I found a couple of (free) dating websites that had the option to choose your preferred gender (I think at the time there were only two that were popular). Then I actually had people reach out to me, but not only that, I had  _girls_ reaching out to  _me._  Holy crap this is really happening!

I met some nice girls but had nothing in common with them, I went out more than once with a couple of them but nothing more, and then I dated someone for a few weeks. She was smart, funny, has a cute laugh and we had a ton in common. She was the first girl I kissed properly and sober. And its a memory that will never fade. However, she wasn't as into me as I was becoming of her and our chemistry was a little...  _off_. It wasn't quite the right fit. So, it was decided that it was best that we remain friends. And I was ok with it. I still had hang ups that I was dealing with and even though it hurt for a minute, I knew it was the right decision. She became one of my best friends and I regret nothing of that time.

Fast forward to the new year, with new friends and trusted ones, I'm becoming more self confident and maybe a little happier. I finally had accepted my sexuality, and was full into actively dating. But, I was still very much not out to many family members.

I get a message late into January from a certain gypsy girl that was more than a superficial comment. Someone very intriguing right off the bat. We messaged several times over the week and agreed to exchange numbers. We text each other every moment we could and asked each other about everything. She was going to be in town to work that following week and wanted to meet. I was excited to meet this girl who's texts were the highlight of everyday.

I was a nervous wreck, I think I changed outfits 3 or 4 times before she picked me up. She wore a leather jacket and bright red lipstick and had the biggest dimples when she smiled. She was as smart and engaging in real life and I was captivated. She was also very flirty and I think I did more than ok flirting back (I must have or we wouldn't be where we are today). We had dinner and enjoyed being in the company of someone new. Afterward, stopped for an impromptu game of pool, where we towed the line of first date etiquette, lingering finger brushes and flirtatious quips, with a couple beers in the mix. Who would make the first move? Did she _want_ to make a move, too? Could I find it in myself to be the one to initiate anything? I realized I really enjoyed her company regardless of what happened next. So, I figured I'd wing it.

She proceeded to kick my ass at pool and I didn't want the night to end. I really wanted to kiss her before we left the bar, otherwise I knew I'd lose my chance. On our last round I think we both were paying less and less attention to the game and both thinking the same thing. She'll tell you she leaned in first but my memory is better so I  _know_ that it was, in fact, me. It was a head spinning, breathless, big scene from every rom-com kind of kiss. Exhilarating and sweet but a bit tipsy at the same time. We left and didn't even finish the beer.

We had said we didn't want anything too serious because she was only going to be here a couple months (ha!). But we had connected in a way that felt natural. Like finding your perfect fit. I experienced a lot of first times with her, first girlfriend and a first real connection. I finally felt like I could be my true self with her, that I didn't have to hide who I was anymore. She was just as into me as I was of her. I felt braver with her around. 

But, not brave enough to tell a lot of my family who she was to me. I was afraid to tell anyone other than my siblings and mom. Afraid of the disapproving words, the anger, the rejection. The wrongness of who I was. Because I did think I was wrong for a long time and I felt wrong in their eyes. There was a small child-like part of me that remained hopeful, that I was just assuming the worst, and that it wouldn't happen like all those other families you hear about. I was much too hopeful.

It was a whirlwind two months and all thoughts of "casual" anything was out the window. I fell in love hard. I introduced her to family and friends I knew were supportive as my girlfriend. By Valentine's Day we had said "I love you" for the first time and by St. Patrick's day I wanted to run away with her. I didn't want to say goodbye and I would never ask her to give up her life on the road to stay. So, she asked me to come with her instead. There wasn't enough time to get things in order to go in a matter of weeks, so we thought it best if I joined up with her at the next show. It'd give me time to get my affairs in order and to find a job. I drove with her to her next show and helped her get situated and then flew back. 

The following two months felt like hell. I'd shut myself in my room again while maintaining a mostly secret long distance relationship  _and_  trying to find the right time to tell my boss that I'm quitting _AND_ trying to find a job in another state two months before I get there! I was completely miserable. The days seemed to drag on, until finally we're within 3 weeks of seeing each other again. But there was still something I had to do. I was still not out to just a few family members, two in particular.

I was invited out to a friend's house one day, so I asked my dad for a ride. On the way, a conversation starts and the questions are leading to THE conversation I have been dreading. I had sworn to myself that I would tell the truth when or if it came up. That there was no going back now. It was like what I imagine being stuck on a train track and hearing the horn not too far away would feel like.  You can't stop it and there's no escaping it. 

"When do you think you'll start dating again?"

It felt more like an accusation than vague concern.

"I have been..."

Oh, shit. Ohhh shit, here it comes.

"When? Who? This guy I'm taking you to?"

Holy shit, here we go. Deep breath.

"...um, no, actually, you remember my friend from the faire? I'm seeing her."

And I wish I could say that he felt nothing but happiness for me. But that was not remotely the case. All of my worst fears were coming to fruition. The condemnation, the blame, the anger. Non-stop shouting match for 5 miles, accusations of trying to act like a boy, how I'm not right, that "that" lifestyle is wrong. I'm trying desperately to get him to listen, that "no, I won't get AIDS" and  "I'M NOT TRYING TO BE A BOY" and otherwise call him out on how hypocritical he was being. The remaining 10 minutes to my friend's place were pure agony. I wanted to jump out of the car and walk that last quarter mile while he stopped for gas. I wanted to be anywhere else but in the car. He dropped me off and I didn't even look back. I drank myself sick and didn't go back home for 3 days. I crashed on a couple friend's couches, relying on their kindness to take me to get work clothes. I told my mom what happened and that I wouldn't be back until I felt I could be around him again. I told my girlfriend what happened and she wanted to fly me out right then. But I still had work commitments and assured her that I could stick it out for two more weeks. I head back almost 4 days later, hoping that was enough time for him to be civil. (It wasn't.)

A few days later, I had needed my grandma to pick me up from work. The car ride is relatively silent most of the way home until she blindsides me.

My dad had told her.

I felt betrayed, attacked, and heartbroken. I was _denied_  the chance to tell her in my own time. I wanted that to come from _me,_ not out of a place of anger in order to hurt someone.

God didn't want this, I wasn't supposed to be this way, and the question of not loving me enough came into play. I wanted to say that it was because I was so loved by my family that I even knew what love was supposed to feel like. Why should it matter if the person I feel that deeply for is a woman? I wanted to. But I just sat there and took it like it was some sort of penance. I was still feeling such anger at my father that I was afraid I would take it out on her if I tried to say anything. She was going to pray for me. And that temptation was the devil in disguise. That one hurt the most. I'm in love with a good, kind hearted person, who is just as over the moon about me.

Why is this  _so_ wrong? _Why am I wrong for falling in love_?

I got home and immediately called my girlfriend, my soul completely battered. I wanted to run. I wanted to be with her. Away from the ones who could hurt me deepest. I practically shut myself off until I the day I had to leave. I wanted nothing to do with "family" and felt utterly alone. I just wanted to be left alone until I was with someone who wanted me again. Who loved me for me, and not for what I'm supposed to be.

 

A week later I said my goodbyes quietly, and started my 6 year adventure with the woman I would marry. I pretty much left everything behind, to find happiness in love. Over time, both my dad and my grandma came to terms with it in their own way. It's not been perfect, because nothing like this ever is, but they came to love and appreciate who she is to me and how happy I am with her. They accepted her as my wife. 

 

It was the darkest and most liberating time of my life. It's a part of me and I'm not going to deny that part ever again. I am who I am because of this.

 

So, this is my coming out story. 

 

And by the way, I'm a _lesbian_.


End file.
